


Run the Heart

by Bonymaloney



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Bad guys think they made them do it, Cunnilingus, Implied/Referenced Torture, Light BDSM, M/M, Nipples, Object Penetration, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Rough Oral Sex, Trans Keith (Voltron), Zero-gravity sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-14
Updated: 2019-04-14
Packaged: 2020-01-12 21:55:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18455372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bonymaloney/pseuds/Bonymaloney
Summary: Keith goes undercover with the Blade of Marmora in a daring attempt to rescue Shiro. But to avoid blowing his cover, he has to do something he’d never imagined he was capable of...





	Run the Heart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Moria](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moria/gifts).



“Remember, the more time you can buy us, the better.”

Even through the voice modulator, Keith could recognisd the rumble in Kolivan’s voice, and for a moment he despaired. How could their disguises ever hold out? The Galra rebel stood tall, shoulders wider than many of his kind. His huge frame was obscured by the uniform, face concealed by a helmet that matched Keith’s own. Keith was almost as tall, but thinner, his build wiry. It wouldn’t matter, he knew. No one would recognise him. The Galra Empire had conquered and colonised enough worlds, there was plenty of variety among their people. It wouldn’t matter. 

He hoped. 

Keith’s hands were numb, his feet sweaty in his boots. He wanted to snap back at his mentor, he wanted to throw up, he wanted to kill everyone on this ship. He wanted to run. 

He bit his tongue. All his life, people had told Keith he needed to control his emotions, his temper. The lesson had never stuck, up until now. Until he’d had a reason. 

Until he’d had Shiro. Shiro, who had given him everything. 

The Empire had Shiro now. Not like before, not the clone who hadn’t even known he was a clone. They had _his_ Shiro, and Keith was going to get him back. 

He couldn’t do it alone - he was there as an agent of the Blade. They knew the value of Shiro, of the intelligence he could cost them as well as his role as the Black Paladin, so there was no question they would assist in the rescue operation. 

If they hadn’t, Keith would have gone alone anyway. 

They came to a halt outside the door, and Kolivan rested his hand on Keith’s shoulder. Just briefly, quick enough that the other Galra, the soldiers guarding the door, wouldn’t notice. Keith took a deep breath inside his helmet. He’d been warned what he might have to expect. 

Shiro knelt between two posts, suspended by ropes around his wrists. His head hung down, and Keith’s heart twisted as he saw the strain in his shoulders, the bruises and cuts that distorted the clean outlines of his muscular chest. 

The idea was simple. Keith wore the uniform of an interrogator. He would keep Shiro busy and keep the attention of the Galra upon them, while Kolivan and the Blade took the ship. Then they would free Shiro and rendezvous with Voltron, destroying the ship behind them. 

Shiro lifted his head, and Keith saw the pain in his eyes and worse, the resignation. It filled Keith with anger and sadness and a kind of desperation. How could he do this?

Torture his love or betray him, hurt him or kill him... Keith wasn’t right for this, he wasn’t built for this, he was impulsive and righteous with no shades of grey. He stepped closer to Shiro, twined one gloved hand in his hair. Shiro tensed, and Keith could see his face tighten as his jaw set, bracing himself for pain to come.

He tugged Shiro’s head back, baring his throat, pale and vulnerable to Keith’s fingers. He traced his Adam’s apple, his clavicles, the stubble that he knew Shiro hated. There was a spot that Shiro loved to be touched, the angle of his mandible, and Keith traced it now. Shiro’s eyes widened, his breath caught. Keith stared at him through his mask, willing him to recognise him, to _see_...

Keith couldn’t tell if they were being watched, but the idea made him nervous. He needed to keep up his cover. He stood the way he imagined a Galra torturer might, and tried to inject all the malice he felt towards the Empire into his voice. 

“So... you’re the one they called the Champion.”

He was worried that Shiro wouldn’t recognise his voice, and terrified that the other guards would, but he forced himself to continue. “The others have tried to hurt you to make you talk. That’s for amateurs. When I’m done, you’ll be desperate to tell me what you know.”

He leaned in to Shiro, trying to make it look intimidating, and whispered, his lips almost touching Shiro’s ear. 

“It’s me,” he breathed. “I’m gonna get you out of here... just gotta... gotta make it look real. I’m so sorry Shiro...”

Shiro thought he was hallucinating. Despite the uniform, and whatever the mask was doing to his voice, he knew he would recognise Keith anywhere. That slim build so full of determination, of tense energy. The touch to his jawline only confirmed it.

Keith ran his gloved finger down Shiro’s chest, gently caressing his nipple before pinching and twisting cruelly, and Shiro bit back a moan. His body held no secrets to the Galra by now, he’d been beaten and vivisected and forced to fight, and so the shame he felt was dulled. He was terribly anxious for Keith, for what would happen to him if this rescue attempt were to fail. Keith, always there for him, the one person who would always take care of Shiro when Shiro had to take care of everyone else. But the anxiety was being overwhelmed by waves of sensation, physical pleasure he hadn’t felt in too long.

Keith was tormenting both his nipples now, twisting and tugging and slapping until they stood peaked, sore and glowing. His groin was at Shiro’s face, and Shiro licked his lips, hoping Keith was getting something out of this too. The sexual side of their relationship hadn’t really taken off until they left Earth and found themselves in the middle of a war, and with five nosy shipmates to contend with they hadn’t really had much time to experiment. 

Keith drew a short metal cudgel from his belt. 

“Open wide,” he snapped, and even as he obeyed Shiro felt a surge of affection for how awkward he sounded. He wrapped his lips around the rigid metal cylinder, warming and wetting it as his eyes never left Keith’s visor. In his mind there was a frown on Keith’s face, dark brows straight and lips pressed together as he concentrated on the task at hand. It was the same when he was fighting and when they were alone together. Shiro felt a tingle up his spine. Being subject to the full force of Keith’s focus was always a little breathtaking. 

He breathed and shuddered as Keith knelt behind him and slid his shorts down around his thighs. There was big, blunt pressure, and it hurt, but there was pleasure mixed with the pain, and he willed himself to relax. He felt a sudden give and a burning stretch, and then he was gasping and groaning for breath. He twitched uselessly in his restraints as his body tried to process the sudden fullness. Every inch of him was tingling, electric, nerve endings firing in sympathy with the tender skin of his hole. His nipples ached, his cock throbbed in time with his pulse. Throughout it all Keith stood over him, arms folded, his mask expressionless, and damn if that wasn’t hot as hell. 

“Please,” he croaked, “please touch me, I’ll tell you anything!” He was partly playing along with Keith’s interrogation, but his need was entirely genuine. 

“Like this?” Keith was terse. He wrapped his fingers around Shiro’s shaft and gave him a few perfunctory jerks, leather gloves slippery with pre cum. “Your mouth belongs to me now. You’ll tell me anything I want to know.” The mouthpiece of his mask vas very close to Shiro’s ear, and the way the air vibrated made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. 

He got to his feet and unclasped his trousers, groin once again level with Shiro’s face, then reached down and pulled him forward by his exquisitely tender nipples. Shiro moaned helplessly, burying his face between Keith’s legs and letting himself drown in the taste and scent of him. His tongue teased and flickered into Keith’s hole, teasing just inside the entrance the way he knew he loved, his chin and chest wet with slippery juices. 

“Suck me,” Keith gasped, his voice distorted by the mask, and Shiro did. He trapped Keith’s clit between his lips, stroked slow and regular with the flat of his tongue. He knew he was doing it right when Keith grabbed handfuls of his hair and started to fuck his face. Barely able to breathe and loving every second of it, he groaned with pleasure. His eyes were tightly closed, and he didn’t notice at first when the lights went out.

Keith noticed straight away - it was the signal. He pulled back from Shiro and fastened his uniform, throwing his helmet aside so Shiro could see it was really him. Swiftly, he cut Shiro’s bonds and helped him to his feet, covering his body and restoring his dignity as much as he was able. No guards interrupted them, they were obviously as distracted as Kolivan had said they would be, but then before they managed more than a few steps towards the doorway, the gravity cut out. 

Keith kept his hand clutched tight around Shiro’s, and as they drifted upwards he was surprised to see the other man laughing, an expression of sheer delight on his face. All at once Shiro looked so beautiful, and soft somehow, with his hair floating and framing his face, that Keith couldn’t stand it. He grabbed Shiro and kissed him, tasting his own body on the other’s lips, and he felt a powerful surge of arousal. 

They clung together weightless, kissing deeply, gently spinning and rutting together. Keith was wet and achy, Shiro’s erection pressing firmly into his thigh, and he was triumphant, he had freed his mate, Shiro was _his_ , he was -

Shiro shuddered, and came against Keith with a moan. Keith held him as they floated, just the two of them, alone in the peaceful dark. When they bumped against the ceiling Keith pushed off, guiding them gently down towards rescue. Shiro’s previously tense body was relaxed in Keith’s embrace, and Keith luxuriated in the closeness. Shiro would need help to make it back to the shuttle, he would need to be washed, have his wounds dressed. He would rest, and then one morning he would appear on the flight deck, square jawed and clean shaven. Shiro the hero, like nothing had ever happened to him.

And Keith would always be there by his side.


End file.
